


EctoOC entry

by DoodleArcher



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, competition entry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 20:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16144688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodleArcher/pseuds/DoodleArcher
Summary: this is just for a competition on amino, i needed a place to post it.hello those reading from amino :)





	EctoOC entry

Your name is Viyari Ariska and you are about to save some trolls ass.

When you heard trolls were being routinely taken from the surrounding area, you didn’t expect to be zeroing in on a remote rust blood hive. It’s... peculiar to say the least. There are no windows whatsoever. Only one way in and one way out. It’s somewhat troubling.

You inch yourself closer to the door, straining to listen inside. There isn’t much to hear bar the soft whimpering of the victim and the occasional footsteps of the captor. The sounds stop and don’t seem to return. You take a chance-

You crash through the door, snapping it off of its hinges and stumble for a moment as you locate the troll you heard. The hive is unexpectedly dark, only bioluminesant mushrooms granting faint glows and the Alternian moons casting light in behind you. You pick up the troll and sprint for the door again when suddenly you get barged out of the way and into some shelves. You collapse onto the floor on top of the troll, unintentionally protecting him from the rain of glass and books that showered you. Your arms sting with sharp pain that you’re all to use to. Gaining a few new cuts is almost a necessary part of the job now. At least the shelf itself isn’t crushing you.

The rust looms above you, peering down at you through tinted goggles. Before she can move for you, you leap up trying not to fall and shove the troll you landed on out of the door, blocking the rust if she were to follow. She doesn’t make a move, only eyes you with what you would assume to be disdain. The goggles make the emotions hard to read. She sighs and takes them off.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing barging into my hive?” She looks you up and down, not displaying anything more than boredom. Annoyance. It ticks you off after seeing what it was she was doing.

“Saving a life?” You say defensively, setting yourself up to her. “I would have thought that much was obvious.”

She chuckles. “You’re awfully heroic for a high blood. You realise they were only a goldblood right? Not some important blue or purpleblood. No one of any relevance to your life” you struggle to gauge if the way she speaks of low bloods is imitating you or what she really thinks.

“I’m not the type to care.” You pause. “You can’t talk to me about stereotypes when you’re out here torturing low bloods like one of us ‘murderous highbloods’! You’re one of them! How can you do this?!”

“That’s none of your business!” She snaps. And hastily adds, “And I didn’t call you murderous!”

“It was implied!” You stop as you acknowledge the building fire in your chest and blurring rage in your mind. “Shit.” Why hadn’t you ran yet? Instead you were arguing with some disgusting, morally corrupt gutter blood except you'd never even dared to think of a low blood like that. Unless-

The rust groans. “I don’t care!” She retorts. “Why are you still standing here? I suggest you walk out of that door before I decide i need a replacement for the gold blood I just lost.” She readies herself with what appears to be some sort of umbrella. Parasol kind. Odd, but you wouldn’t like to underestimate.

“I’d like to see you try.” Dear god no. You can’t strife. You avoid it. Because you’re dreadfully bad at it. There’s a reason you have so many scars and it’s not just because glass keeps breaking on you. You’d acknowledge this more if you were currently in any way thinking rationally. But, as you know, hate blinds.

You conjure your tonfas, bracing yourself for the first blow. It knocks you back considerably as the rust launches at you but you stand your ground. You push her off and throw yourself forward this time. Hit and dodge, hit and dodge. It quickly becomes a full blown, violet strife, the likes of which you rarely engage in being too concerned with fleeing.

The next few minutes are a blur of heavy impact and clumsy movements, attacks occasionally missing aiding in the destruction of the hive. Your body aches and you’d assume hers does too.

Eventually it ends, the rust on top of you, both of you gasping for breath. You share a long, silent, angry glare before the rust loosens the grip on your jumper and starts to laugh out of something like confusion or fear. She feels exactly the same as you do. You find yourself laughing as well and suddenly she’s cackling and it’s not as funny anymore. You hate it. You hate this whole situation. You both deathly hate each other and you know exactly what that means.

_Kismetude ___


End file.
